


The five times Draco was caught sleepwalking, and the one time it all worked out

by dot_the_writer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Nightmares, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dot_the_writer/pseuds/dot_the_writer
Summary: If Draco keeps refusing to tell Potter how he feels, his subconscious is going to help him out.





	The five times Draco was caught sleepwalking, and the one time it all worked out

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking through some old, unposted fics I have, and found this one! It's basically just self-indulgent fluff, so I hope you all enjoy. Unbetaed; any mistakes are my own.

I.

“Do you think he’s all right?”

“I don’t know, but he’s been here for most of the night.”

Draco woke to the sound of voices and knew immediately that he wasn’t in his bed. For one, the ground was too hard, and two, Granger was standing over him. And she actually looked worried.

He groaned. Loudly.

“Are you — are you okay?” Granger sounded so damn concerned.

“Yes, fine. I enjoy sleeping on the ground for fun,” Draco grumbled, trying to inject every ounce of sarcasm from his tired body into the statement. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost seven. I was just headed to the library to get some studying in before breakfast. Would you, well,” Granger looked at Draco strangely, “Would you like me to help you back to your dorm? The Fat Lady said you’ve been here for hours.”

The Fat Lady huffed at this, while Draco, realizing he was still sitting on the ground, hastily stood up.

“He kept walking into me, before just falling to the floor,” the Fat Lady looked at Draco, clearly disapproving of his antics. “Gave me quite a shock!”

“I’m fine, honestly. And I’m not a child, I’m perfectly capable of getting back to my dorm.” Draco thought he’d actually prefer to bash his head against a wall and _Obliviate_ Granger, but he’d settle for heading back to his dorm and getting a few more hours of rest.

And Granger was one of the few people he was on decent terms with this year, as she’d accepted his apology after the trials last summer. Things had been less than horrible — almost, dare he say, friendly — between the two of them since.

“Do you sleepwalk often?”

 _Yes, ever since the Dark Lord had lived in the Manor._ “No, not often. Probably just adjusting to being back here; I’ll see you at breakfast, okay?”

“All right. Bye, Malfoy.”

Luckily, Draco was able to make it back to the Slytherin common room without running into anyone else, and quickly hopped in the shower. He realized he was too awake to go back to bed, and anyway, every part of his body hurt — he must have been on the cold floor for hours!

He couldn’t believe it: Sleepwalking to the Gryffindor common room. It was lucky Filch hadn’t caught him, as Draco knew he would have been given detention for sure. It wouldn’t have mattered that he was an eighth year, or unconscious, as Filch was even stricter since the war.

Draco let the scalding hot water wash over him as he stretched his muscles. He breathed in the steam, thinking about his current predicament.

He had started sleepwalking when the Dark Lord had come to the Manor. Night after night, Draco would wake up outside, curled up in a blanket by the big oak tress overlooking the pond on the property. He assumed it was his fear of the Dark Lord, and his fear of the others — he still saw Bellatrix’s face when he closed his eyes — that drove him to do it. The fear penetrated his sleep and he assumed that was why he kept leaving in the night.

He would always wake up chilled to the bone, but he never had a nightmare when he was sleeping outside. No, the opposite was true. Every night, he dreamt of Harry Potter defeating the Death Eaters, defeating Voldemort. His dreams were permeated by boys with messy black hair and crooked smiles.

And then, when it actually happened, when the war was over, the dreams stopped.

Returning to Hogwarts had brought with it an onslaught of nightmares. He knew Potter had won, knew the battle was done, but in his nightmares, Voldemort always drew his wand and cast a spell first.

Draco hadn’t wanted to return to Hogwarts, hadn’t wanted to finish an eighth year with people who had been hurt and lost those they loved because of his actions, but he didn’t have a choice. Returning to school was part of his court-mandated sentence.

But Draco realized that last night, lying on the cold floor outside the Gryffindor common room, he hadn’t had a nightmare. It was the first time since returning to school.

Funny how that worked.

 

II.

The next morning — as the day previous, Draco awoke to a voice above him.

“Again?”

_Please be Blaise. Please be Blaise._

Draco knew, of course, that the voice was too soft to be that of one of his roommates, and the ground too hard to be his bed. But he really didn’t want to deal with the reality of the situation.

Resigning himself to his fate, Draco opened his eyes, glaring at Granger above him. She stood with her hands on her hips, bushy hair untamed.

“As I said, again?”

“Apparently so,” Draco said as he struggled to stand. Salazar, his body hurt worse today than the previous morning.

Granger gave him a look. Draco knew that look; she was about to start in on a lecture.

“Did you know, sleepwalking can be indicative of a person’s subconscious? You can sleepwalk away from something that your brain knows you fear, or you can sleepwalk towards something you actually want,” Hermione paused. “Interesting, isn’t it? Even when asleep, out mind is trying to help.”

In response, Draco glared at her.

“What? I looked it up in the library after seeing you yesterday.”

Draco groaned. “As fascinating as that is, I need to get some sleep.”

Granger nodded. “You slept later than yesterday, I would encourage you to hurry if you want to avoid running into anyone in the halls.” She smiled, “They might get the wrong idea, you returning from Gryffindor tower at this time, in just your pyjamas.”

Draco felt his face heat as he hurried away. He know she was right, with everything that she said. Granger was infuriating in that regard: She was always right.

“Mate, did you see that move? Ginny’s brilliant, I know she’s going to play professionally when we —”

Draco turned the corner sharply, lost in his thoughts and ran directly into Potter and Weasley, interrupting Weasley’s train of thought.

“What are you doing hanging around Gryffindor? Especially in your pyjamas?” Weasley asked, seeming genuinely curious. Draco felt a surge of gratitude towards Granger, it seemed she hadn’t told the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio that she had found him yesterday.

“I’m taking a stroll around the castle,” Draco sneered. Just because he and Granger were friendly didn’t mean he had to be nice to Weasley. “What does it look like?”

Potter laughed. Draco turned and glared at him.

But that laugh — that was all it took. It should have been obvious immediately, but maybe Draco had been willfully oblivious to the truth.

Draco wanted Potter. He had always wanted Potter.

He couldn’t help it, he froze.

“Are you all right, Malfoy?”

Draco couldn’t take the concern in Potter’s voice, couldn’t have those green eyes turned on him with all their intensity. And so he fled. But halfway down the hall, he turned and caught sight of Potter, whose head was tilted slightly in confusion as he continued to stare at Draco.

 

III.

He was desperate. Draco knew any good Slytherin — any of snakes he shared a dorm with — would hold it over his head if he told them he was sleepwalking to Gryffindor Tower.

So he went to the one person he knew he could trust: Pansy.

“Granger’s found me, twice!” They were sitting in a corner of the common room, and Draco had put up a privacy spell for good measure. “I don’t know how to stop, you have to help me.”

“You don’t want Potter to find out about that crush you’ve had on him since fifth year?”

Draco glared at her, but Pansy seemed to be immune to his looks. Probably the result of being on the receiving end of his glares since they became best friends all those years ago.

“Darling, learn to take a joke,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ll help, though I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I don’t know,” Draco hissed. “Is there a way to keep me from sleepwalking? Or at least keep me in the Slytherin dormitories?”

Pansy looked thoughtful. “What about wards around your bed? Usually they would notify you if an intruder came in, but you could reverse yours to go off if someone — being you, tried to leave?”

Pansy was brilliant; this is why they were best friends.

And it worked. For about a week, Draco would start to sleepwalk out of his bed, but the wards would go off and wake him up. It wasn’t the most pleasant way to be woken, but it kept him off the cold ground — and more importantly, away from Potter.

But Draco’s luck was too good to hold.

Before long, there was a night where he forgot to reset the wards after the first time they woke him. Usually, he only sleepwalked once per night, but apparently his subconscious was becoming more stubborn as it was denied what it wanted.

That morning, he awoke to someone’s foot in his gut. It wasn’t too hard, but it keep coming.

“Wake up, you git.”

Draco opened his eyes to see the flaming red hair of the girl Weasley; the foot that had woken him up belonged to her. He couldn’t say he was surprised by the tactic.

She continued to look down at him. “I don’t know why you’re sleeping outside the common room. If you want to talk to Harry, I can let you in.”

Draco scoffed. “Merlin’s beard, why would I want to talk to Potter! That’s preposterous.”

“Sure, Malfoy,” the girl Weasley said as she shook her head. “I’ll see you around.”

 

IV.

Draco’s solution was to stop sleeping entirely. He realized quickly that this was not a smart decision, but he didn’t feel like he had any other options, and therefore stuck with it.

On the third day with no sleep, he had bags under his eyes and could barely stay awake to focus during class.

Blaise thought he had lost it completely, and Pansy kept shooting him worried looks. She was still the only one who knew about his previous sleepwalking around the Manor, and the only one who knew it was happening again.

In double potions — with the Gryffindors, of course — Draco thought he might prove Blaise right and actually lose his mind. He could barely focus on his potion — it seemed he was doing even worse than Finnigan, who hadn’t managed to explode anything yet.

And then, to distract him further, an origami bird landed on his desk. Draco opened it to reveal the note, “The Fat Lady is using the password ‘purple pixies.’ Up the stairs, first room on the right.” He didn’t recognize the handwriting and when he glanced around, no one was looking his way.

For all Draco knew, it could be some kind of Gryffindor trap.

In the common room that afternoon, Draco couldn’t keep his eyes open, even thinking about the mystery of who sent the parchment note.

It was before dinner, so he reasoned that if he went to bed now, he would be up before anyone else turned in. And so, if he started to sleepwalk, someone would be in the common room to stop him.

But Draco hadn’t taken into account how tired he was, and slept long past the last Slytherin was studying in the common room.

He ended up sleepwalking again. Draco remembered the password into the Gryffindor common room, mumbling “purple pixies” when the Fat Lady prompted him for it.

He made it through the portrait and past most of the couches before tripping on the bottom stair. Draco went down, fast, landing on his forearms.

The fall woke him and Draco scrambled up, breathing hard.

He turned and saw two pairs of eyes looking at him from one of the couches. One person was trying — unsuccessfully, Draco might add — to stifle their giggles behind a red and gold throw pillow.

“I’m sorry!” Draco whisper-yelled, trying not to make any more noise. “I didn’t mean to come into your common room — I swear!”

He ran from the room, tripping out of the Fat Lady.

Hermione and Ron shared a look and a quick kiss before getting off the couch and heading to their respective rooms.

As Draco made it back to his bed, he wondered how much more humiliating this whole experience would become.

 

V.

Draco went to Pansy in the morning, but she didn’t have any other helpful ideas. Quite the contrary, actually.

“Darling, just tell him how you feel. Or at least try to befriend him — Granger already likes you, so that gives you an in.”

Draco huffed. “Just because Granger and I tolerate each other doesn’t make us friends —”

“No, but studying together on weekends does.”

“— And, as I was saying, I can't just ‘tell Potter how I feel.’ Salazar, what are you, a bloody Hufflepuff?”

“It might actually go well! He was obsessed with you in sixth year.”

“He did try to kill me that year, don’t forget.”

“Draco, he didn’t know what that spell did. I’m not saying he should have used it, but saying that he was _trying_ to kill you may be taking it a little too far.” Pansy was always trying to be the voice of reason. Draco hated it, it made it much harder to argue with her.

Draco groaned, “What am I going to do?”

Pansy kissed him on the cheek as she stood. “I don’t know, but you better figure it out.”

Draco was a bundle of nerves for the rest of the week, getting as little sleep as he could get away with and jumping at the slightest sound. The nightmares were worse than ever, each one depicting a different way the Dark Lord could have won the war, and therefore a different way Potter would have died.

Draco couldn’t take it anymore, and finally did what all of his roommates were telling him to do. He went to sleep at a regular time, safe and comfortable in his own bed with his wards set to register movement.

When Draco woke, it was still dark, and he was incredibly comfortable. He pulled his blankets further up around his chin — they smelled wonderful, like apples and trees — and scooted into the warmth behind him.

His whole body tensed immediately.

Someone was in his bed. Someone was breathing on his neck and it wasn’t his bed after all because his bed had a window to the Great Lake on the left, and the person was now moving.

A warm arm slid over his chest and pulled him against the person’s chest. They sighed.

Draco couldn’t breathe.

He turned his head slowly, hoping his eyes would adjust to the darkness and he would be able to see who was there, though deep down, Draco thought he already knew the answer. And when he caught sight of the unruly mess of black hair, he knew he was right.

He was in Potter’s bed. Cuddling with Potter.

Salazar help him.

Draco slid slowly out of the bed, missing the warmth of the covers as soon as he was standing. He looked down at Potter for a second, noting how young and soft he looked when he was sleeping, then bolted for the door.

He ran from the dormitory and into the common room, where he saw Granger and Weasley sitting on one of the couches, watching him.

Draco panicked as Weasley opened his mouth.

“I didn’t try to!” he yelled as he ran from the room.

But if he had slowed down, he would have heard Weasley reply, “I know.”

It was only that he got back to his bed in Slytherin did Draco realize that he didn’t have a nightmare that night.

 

VI.

Draco decided he would rather die from lack of sleep than allow himself — even unconsciously — to climb back into Potter’s bed, which he knew would happen as soon as he slept. His sleepwalking was getting completely out-of-hand.

He would be absolutely humiliated, not to mention ridiculed by all the other students, if anyone figured out what had happened.

He hated the loss of control that sleepwalking brought with it. After being a pawn in the war, Draco despised not being able to make decisions for himself, no matter how small or trivial.

And more than just the loss of control at night, trying not to sleep meant he was losing control during the day too. Blaise shoved him — almost entirely out of his seat — during Ancient Runes. Apparently Draco had fallen asleep and Blaise thought that was the best way to get his attention.

“I know something’s going on,” Blaise whispered, looking at his parchment and pretending to take notes. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

Draco just nodded.

That evening, Draco was trying to stay awake best he could. He was studying for Herbology, alone in the common room. But he was so incredibly tired, and his textbook was really quite boring.

Same as the last time he woke up, the bed was warm and soft, and distinctly not his.

He stopped himself from groaning. Draco could feel his heart beating throughout his entire body and was sure that Potter, with his arm wrapped around Draco’s waist and one leg thrown over Draco’s own, must be able to feel it too.

Potter murmured in his sleep and wrapped himself even more firmly around Draco. Of course the Gryffindor like to cuddle.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t move without waking Potter — considering how closely they were wrapped together — leaving his only option as waiting for Potter to move.

Draco was okay with this plan. He would just lay in the soft bed, with Potter in all his attractiveness wrapped around Draco like an extra-warm blanket, and bide his time. He even closed his eyes, just waiting for the right time to move.

When Draco woke again, it was to the first rays of sunlight streaming through the window, and warm breath at the back of his neck.

Salazar. He was still in Potter’s bed.

He started to move as the panic set in, but a strong hand grabbed his arm.

“Are you really leaving already?” Potter’s voice was still thick with sleep.

_He doesn’t know it’s me. He must think I’m someone else, someone he actually invited into his bed._

“I have to go, back to my bed,” Draco whispered, hoping Potter wouldn’t be able to recognize his voice.

“No, Draco, you left too soon last time,” Potter said, sounding quite put-out.

He opened his eyes, green meeting Draco’s grey, and Draco could no longer pretend Potter didn’t know exactly who he was talking to.

“I thought you wanted this?” Potter’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Otherwise, why do you keep coming to my bed?”

“But you don’t want this.”

“Who told you that?”

“Potter,” Draco said, growing frustrated. “You hate me. There’s no good reason you should want me in your bed.”

Potter had to audacity to laugh. “Merlin, Draco, I don’t hate you. And there’s no good reason you should want to be in my bed, yet here you are. Stay, please?”

Draco figured he must be dreaming. There was no other way to explain Potter’s green eyes, staring up at him, with a perfectly crooked smile on his lips as he pulled Draco back to him.

Potter nuzzled into Draco’s neck, “Hermione said you’ve liked me for ages. Said it was why you were always so mean to me.”

Draco moved to pull away, but Potter held him tight.

“No,” Draco huffed, unable to come up with a suitable reply to show just how wrong Potter was.

“S’okay, I’ve liked you for ages too.”

Draco’s heart started pounding. And when Potter began placing kisses on the back of his neck and down onto his shoulder, Draco thought it might just beat out of his chest.

“Potter, _Harry_ , don’t stop,” Draco moaned.

Potter slid over Draco, straddling him on the bed. He started talking, each word punctuated with a kiss to Draco’s face.

“You … don’t … know … how … hot … it … is … when … you … say … my … name.”

“Harry,” Draco moaned.

Harry finally brought their mouths together, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. He kissed Draco lightly, slowly deepening the kiss until Draco felt Harry’s tongue nudge against his lips. He opened his mouth as an answer, and from there it was like spells colliding, shooting light into the darkness.

They were moaning into each other’s mouths, sloppy kisses all that either had the patience for.

After what seemed an eternity, Harry pulled back.

“Ron and Hermione told me they had a plan to get us together, after Hermione first found you outside the Fat Lady.”

“They gave me the password, didn’t they,” Draco knew he was right, it only made sense. Of course Granger knew he wanted Harry.

Harry nodded, not looking at Draco. “They thought it might help both of us with our nightmares.”

With one hand on the back of Harry’s neck, running fingers though Harry’s hair, Draco pulled his mouth down and kissed him.

“Did it work?”

Harry looked at him, blonde hair and pale limbs spread out on the sheets.

“Yes. It did.”

And from then, Draco stopped sleepwalking. (He also stopped sleeping in his own bed, but that’s beside the point.) The nightmares didn’t stop, but Draco was there to comfort Harry, and Harry was always there to wake Draco up and reassure him that the war was done, and Harry was alive.

They were both alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. <3 Feel free to come find me on [Tumblr](https://all-drarry-to-me.tumblr.com/).


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